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Should Oxford to her fifter Cambridge join

A year's rack-rent, and arbitrary fine,

Thence not one winter's charge would be defray'd
For play-house, opera, ball, and masquerade.
Glad I congratulate the judging age,

The players are the world, the world the stage,
I am a politician too, and hate,

Of any party, ministers of state:

I'm for an Act, that he, who fev'n whole years
Has ferv'd his king and country, lofe his ears.
Thus from my birth I'm qualified, you find,
To give the laws of Tafte to human kind.
Mine are the gallant schemes of politeffe,
For books, and buildings, politicks, and drefs.
This is true Tafte, and whofo likes it not
Is blockhead, coxcomb, puppy, fool, and fot.

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O DE

ON THE

DEATH

OF

MATZEL,

A FAVOURITE BULL-FINCH,

Address'd to Mr. St-pe, to whom the author had given the reverfion of it when he left Drefden.

BY SIR CHARLES HANBURY WILLIAMS, K.B.*

*I.

TRY not, my Ste, 'tis in vain
To ftop your tears, to hide your pain,

Or check your honest rage;
Give forrow and revenge their scope,
My prefent joy, your future hope,

Lies murder'd in his cage.

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Matzel's no more, ye graces, loves,

Ye linnets, nightingales and doves,
Attend th' untimely bier ;

Let ev'ry forrow be exprest,

Beat with your wings each mournful breast,

And drop the natʼral tear.

III.

In height of fong, in beauty's pride,

By fell Grimalkin's claws he died

But vengeance fhall have way:

On pains and tortures I'll refine;

Yet, Matzell, that one death of thine

His nine will ill repay.

IV.

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15

For thee, my bird, the facred Nine,

Who lov'd thy tuneful notes, shall join

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In thy funereal verse :

My painful task shall be to write

Th' eternal dirge which they indite,
And hang it on thy hearse.

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VI.

There shall thy notes in cyprefs grove
Sooth wretched ghofts that died for love;
There fhall thy plaintive ftrain
Lull impious Phædra's endless grief,
To Procris yield fome fhort relief,

And foften Dido's pain.

VII.

Till Proferpine by chance fhall hear
Thy notes, and make thee all her cire,

And love thee with my love;
While each attendant's foul fhall praise
The matchlefs Matzel's tuneful lays,

And all his fongs approve.

AN

ODE

ON

MISS HARRIET HANBURY,

AT SIX YEARS OLD.

BY THE SAME.

I.

WHY fhou'd I thus employ my time,
To paint thofe checks of rofy hue ?

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Why should I fearch my brains for rhyme,
To fing those eyes of gloffy blue?

II.

Their' pow'r as yet is all in vain,

Thy num'rous charms and various graces:

They only serve to banish pain,

And light up joy in parents' faces.

III.

But foon thofe eyes their ftrength fhall feel:

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Those charms their pow'rful fway shall find: 10 Youth fhall in crowds before you kneel,

And own your empire o'er mankind.

IV.

Then, when on Beauty's throne you fit,

And thoufands court your wifh'd-for arms,

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My mufe fhall ftretch her utmost wit,
To fing the victories of your charms.

V.

Charms that in time fhall ne'er be loft,
At least while verfe like mine endures:

And future Hanburys fhall boaft,

Of verfe like mine, of charms like yours.

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VI.

A little vain we both may be,

Since fcarce another house can fhew

A poet, that can fing like me;

A beauty, that can charm like you,

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